


The Newest Soldier

by ATotalNightmare



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: :), Angst, Blood, Brainwashed Peter Parker, Brainwashing, Death, Electrocution, Hhhhhhh, Hydra (Marvel), Hydra Peter Parker, I have no clue what to put here, Medical Inaccuracies, Near Death Experiences, Strangulation, Whump, a lot of sad shit ok, i don't know shit about medical shit, injuries, might update the tags, tags are very hard, will probably update the tags as i go, winter soldier peter parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-10-13 11:16:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17487119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATotalNightmare/pseuds/ATotalNightmare
Summary: Peter Parker was a good kid; probably the best out there. Not only was he the kindest person you'd meet, but he was Spider-man. Yep, Spider-man. He'd help old ladies across streets, give directions, all sorts of things. Ever since he'd become a known hero, crime had gone down significantly. Peter was a good kid.Was.





	1. Death Doesn't Discriminate

Falling.

 

That was all Peter knew, in that moment.

 

He hadn't planned to get knocked off of a plane by some Vulture guy, he really, really hadn't. Hell, just previously he'd almost  _died_ being crushed by a warehouse.

 

He guessed he was dying for real, this time.

 

 _Mr. Stark was right_. He really, really should've listened. And now, he was falling from a height that would surely kill him. And sadly, it seemed that that short time had ended.

 

      He hit the ground with a sickening  _snap_ , pain barely having time to register. He could've sworn that he'd  _bounced_ from the ground once he'd made contact. Peter didn't know how he wasn't dead. Yet. Parker luck really didn't seem to be letting up, even in his death. He was dying slowly, and painfully. He heard the almost too far away sound of crashing, and buildings falling. A choked sob escaped his throat.  _People could have died tonight, and that's on you_! He sobbed harder, at remembering Tony's words. People were dying. People  _had_ died. And it was  _his fault_. He hardly heard the sound of cars driving up to him, and the sound of car doors opening. He felt hands grab at his hoodie, dragging him across the hard, cold, unforgiving ground. It made his right arm scream in protest, however little he could feel it. He'd landed on it when he fell, no doubt that it was broken beyond use, probably. He wasn't a doctor. The last thing he felt was the feeling of being tossed into something hard, before everything went painfully black.

 

* * *

 

 

      The next time he woke, it was on a surgical table. The unmistable sound of a saw broke through his senses, and the last thing he saw before he passed out was the image of a saw hovering over his mangled right arm.

 

* * *

 

 

      He'd awoken again, on the same surgical table. This time, something felt different; so, so different. His right arm felt strangely heavy;  _cold_. He ignored the sight of doctors almost grinning in triumph above him, and lifted his arm. The arm that came into view  _was not his arm_. It had plates covering it, metal and shining. Said plates shifted as he moved the new arm experimentally, and he stared. Panic flared through him, his spidey senses warning him of  _danger, danger_! He flailed, however futile it was. He knew he hit a couple of people, before he felt something prick his neck. His senses warned him of it too late, and before he knew it, he'd drifted off again.

 

* * *

 

 

      For the third time, Peter woke. Everything felt cold, this time.  _Why did it feel so cold?_ Hands grabbed his arms, and he felt himself being dragged forward again. The only thing he could do was watch. He was placed on a metal chair, or something similar. It took a minute before he woke completely. His arms were strapped down, not allowing him to move. The 'chair' against his back was cold; everything was cold, and gray. Scientists- or were they doctors?- swarmed around the large room, one of them in front of him poking at a screen. "What...?" Peters tounge felt heavy and cotton-y, making him slur his speech. The scientist poking at the screen looked towards him, and a smile seemed to bloom across his face. Peters spider sense buzzed faintly, an almost constant. It told him that this guy- this  _place_ \- meant nothing good. "Ah, Mister Parker! Glad to see you are awake!" He spoke in a fairly thick Russain accent, his tone holding an almost gleeful sound. Not good. Peter spoke again, though it took a second to get his words together. "W... Who are you..?" His words slurred slightly, containing confusion. The scientist grinned. "That is not important, Mister Parker. What  _is_ important, however, is what we're going to do with you." Peter stared at him, anxiety and confusion coming off of him in waves. The scientist must have noticed this, and explained while continuing to poke at the screen.

 

"So, Mister Parker... Have you ever heard of The Winter Soldier?"


	2. Between the Sinners

_**48 Hours Earlier** _

 

      Tony was currently working on his latest suit, trying to weld together two pieces that seemingly refused to cooperate. Cursing, he decided to work on another part of the suit, before a feminine, Irish voice broke through his concentration. "Sir, one of our planes has just crashed." Tony's head snapped up, and the first thing that greeted his eyes oh-so pleasantly, was the news, showing a recording of one of his planes crashing through countless buildings and finally, onto the beach. "Shit!" Quickly getting up, he called his suit towards him, feeling the familiar metal wrap around his body. The moment that his helmet snapped over his head, his repulsors fired on, and launched himself out of the window, ignoring the shattering of glass behind him. "Fri, gimme the details." "The crash happened by Coney Island, sir. 367 casualties, 458 injured. The police department is on their way, as well as the fire department, and medical departments." Flying faster towards the crash site, he called the Iron Legion, hoping that it wouldn't be as bad is Friday had said.

 

* * *

 

 

      It had, in fact, been as bad as Friday had said. Worse, actually. The casualties and injured kept ramping up, and the fact that there was a shit ton of fire did  _not_ help. Sighing, and running a hand through his hair, he paced through his lab, running through every possible reason as to how the plane could have crashed in his head. Tony shook his head, and, sighing again, he ran a hand down his face, sat himself into a chair. "Friday, is there any camera feed from the plane?" Friday responded, bringing up the recording of what had happened inside the plane. "Yes, sir. I do believe that you will want to see this." 

      The recording began normally, showing the inside of the plane. Soon enough, though, the sight of the bottom of the plane being cut through came into view, and the one and only Vulture came through the hole, minus the wings. The wings appeared to be sealing the hole, so that things wouldn't get sucked through. Toomes-as they had found his body earlier and found out who it was-went through everything. Though, the moment Toomes went into the cockpit of the plane, the sight of the wings being pried off of the hole greeted him, and a certain red-and-blue figure crawled through. Tony's breath hitched, his eyes widening.  _Shit, not Peter..._! The moment that Toomes walked back into the main part of the plane, and saw Peter, Toomes face twisted in anger, before launching a punch at Peter, who easily dodged. Said spiderling tried to web him up, but ran out of webfluid. The moment Peter paused, Toomes took his chance. The mechanical wings launched through the hole, and knocked peter into the side of the plane, tearing another hole into the side of the plane. The wings reattached to Toomes back, and he walked towards the hole, before slicing off the bit of metal still hanging onto the plane, where Peter had presumably been sticking to.

      Grief hit Tony harder than it ever had before. Peter... Peter was dead. Because of him.  _I shouldn't have taken the suit away_. A phone ringing sounded, and glancing at the contact made his heart clench.  _May Parker_ , it read. God, how was he going to explain that Peter was not only Spider-man, but was also  _dead_? How could he possibly tell her that? Gulping, he grabbed the phone, and answered the call.

 

* * *

 

 

      To say that the call had gone well was a lie. He was basically screamed at, and to say that he didn't deserve it was also a lie. And afterwards, when he got his iron legion out again and went to search for his kids- Oh god,  _his kids_ \- body, he found nothing, but a bloody pool. And not only that, but a bloody trail leading to a dead end. Not only was Peter dead, but someone had taken his body. Of course, just his luck. Peter would never, ever get a proper burial. Not in a thousand years. And It was his fault. 

 

_It was his, Tony Starks, fault._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's not the best, but god i have no clue how to write Tony or how to write fight scenes. they're really,, not my forte. but yeah, god tony is blaming himself. too bad peter isn't really dead.


	3. And the Saints

**_10 Years later_ **

 

      Cold. Screaming. Pain. Memories forgotten. Repeated words. 

* * *

 

 

       _"солдат, we have a new mission for you."_ Constant missions. Blood. That's all he knew. All he remembered. He didn't know anything else, other than being with Hydra and being someone who only had the purpose to kill and carry out missions, as needed. He knew the words.

 

Амбиция

Изношенные

Склад

эпоха

один

сострадание

девять

возвращение домой

Семь

самолет

 

      They were repetitive. They were always there, for as long as he remembered. It made him remember to be loyal to Hydra, and no one else. To always carry out missions. If he were to stray from Hydra's path, he would be hurt. So, he did as told.

* * *

 

       _"солдат, i have a mission for you. It's important. Fail, and you will suffer the consequences."_ Another mission. A file was handed to him. Taking it with his right, metallic arm, he opened it. An image of a man was shown, both in red armor, and out of it. The man had mostly gray hair, with a beard and sunglasses sitting atop his nose. He wore a blue suit, and appeared to be talking to a taller blonde man. Ironman, and Captain America. "паук, your mission is to kill Tony Stark. He is vital to our goals. Kill anyone who gets in your way. Now, train and get ready. You will leave in 12 hours." паук closed the file, handing it to the man. He needed to get ready. 

 

_The name Tony Stark sounded awfully familiar..._


	4. It Takes

      Fury looked around at the sitting heroes; The Avengers. Around the table sat Tony Stark; Iron Man. Steve Rogers; Captain America. Clint Barton; Hawkeye. Natasha Romanov; Black Widow. Sam Wilson; Falcon. Bruce Banner; The Hulk. Bucky Barnes; White Wolf. and lastly, Thor Odinson. They appeared confused, wondering why they were there if there were no world-ending threats. "So," Nick began, "The reason why you're here isn't because of a threat that could end the world. Well, more likely the consequences could." They appeared intrigued, Steve cocking an eyebrow. "Consequences?" The american hero wondered. "Yes, consequences. You see, the person that you'll be taking down is dangerous. They can't end the world by themselves, but they're a problem. And they're not just anyone." A halogram appeared in the middle of the table, displaying a blurry picture. Said picture held the figure of a man on top of a building, leaning over slightly with a sniper. "This man is the newest Winter Soldier. We don't know who he is, and so far we only have a single picture and a video. This image was from 6 years ago." Tony spoke up. "Another winter soldier? So, we just... find out where he's held, and take him out?" Bucky appeared to be slightly concerned. A new winter soldier? Were there more they didn't know of? Who were they?

      "That's the thing. We can't track him. Even our most skilled can't find a single hint of where he's been. And, even if we do find him, there's a chance we might not even be able to get him. From the small information we've gathered, he's intelligent, enough to be able to get into one of our most guarded facilities and hack into our mainframe. Ms. Romanoff just dealt with him last week." Fury glanced towards Natasha, as did everyone else, as if for confirmation. Natasha laid a hand down on the table that had previously been holding her chin up. "It's true; he was even able to get past me. He's a serious threat to us, and the world. Hydra most likely has dangerous information by now, information that could hold our weaknesses and how to exploit them. He is no joke." Steve ran a hand through his hair, his expression thoughtful. "And if we do catch him? Do we held him get his memories back, get him to join the avengers?" Nick confirmed it with a nod. "Yes; he could be one of our strongest assets, right next to Thor ad The Hulk." Buckys eyebrows twitched. "How long has he been in operation?" Nick straightened. "We're estimating around 7-10 years, possibly around 2016. Definitely enough time to erase his memories and make him one of the most dangerous people out there." Tony's voice suddenly interrupted. "Okay, so you said that there was a video, what's the video? Y'know, could help us see how Manchurian Candidate 2.0 works, at least." "Tony's got a point, we need all the information we can get." Steve agreed, nodding slightly. His and Tony's relationship had gotten better since the whole 'Infinity War' and 'Civil War' fiasco.

      The halogram flickered again, this time showing a clear video. It showed a man working in his office, a gentle green and yellow hue lighting up the small area. A window was behind the man at his desk, showing cars driving by, reflecting various red and green lights. Snow gently fell outside, showing that it was, in fact, around christmas. The quiet sound of pen scratching against paper made itself known. Steve glanced towards Nick. "Norman Osborn?" His question didn't have time to be answered, before the image of a hand was seen opening the window, and a figure climbed in. It nimbly slid in through, light gleaming off of what looked to be a metal arm. Bucky winced, lightly grasping his arm. This did not brin back good memories. Norman seemed to notice the sound of his window opening, and turned around. He was barely able to get out a _"What-?"_   before a hand grasped at his throat tightly, and the sound of choking filled the shocked silence for a painful 30 seconds before it ended. The soldier moved Normans chair back, not caring about how the body fell to the ground. He shoved a USB into the now open computer, appearing to be downloading something from it. Yanking out the USB, the man shut the laptop, propping the body back onto the chair before scooting it back in, propping the limp arms up, making the appearance of a peaceful sleep. The soldier headed for the window, before suddenly stopping. The soldiers head swiveled to look up towards the camera, shoulder-length hair framing his face. A disturbingly cold look seemed to be permanantly settled on his features, before a brief look of frustration appeared and disappeared. The soldier walked towards the camera, and a second passed of him disappearing out of sight before the screen suddenly cut out. The only thing that was left was the timestamp, showing  _December 24, 2025._

      "Jesus Christ." Clint quietly whispered, shock evident in his voice. "'Jesus Christ' is right, Barton. This guy isn't a joke. We need to get to him before he gets to us. Get to where he's being held, and capture him. Make sure to destroy the facility where he is, while you're at it. You've got one day to prepare, now go." Simultaneously, everyone got up, leaving the room. Tony and Steve stopped outside the door, and Tony turned to the man next to him. "We should tell Harry Osborn about this." For a moment, Steve had a conflicted expression. For a second, Tony believed Steve was going to disagree, before Steve sighed. "Yeah, we should. Should you tell him, or...?" Tony nodded. "I'll handle it, Cap." Walking away, Tony turned back. "Don't want a child to declare war on us!" A grin appeared on Tony's face, and jokingly sent Steve a mock salute. He grinned, laughing, before following.

 

* * *

 

 

**_10 hours later..._ **

 

      Panting filled the gray training room, the gray punching bag being assaulted by fists. The soldier repeatedly punched it, before accidentally knocking it off of the hook it was settled on, flying back and hitting the wall. The soldier sighed, annoyance filling him. Grabbing another one near him, he settled it back onto the hook, before punching again. The sound of a door opening caused him to stop and turn around, standing still, his hands behind his back. "Soldier, it's almost time. Go get ready. We leave in 3 hours." The soldier nodded, following the guards. Being lead back into his cell, the Soldier saw gear. The pile consisted of a bullet-proof mask and sunglasses, a bullet vest, guns, and much more. Stripping himself of his current clothes, he put on the gear needed. It was a lot, taking nearly an hour. He stretched the fingerless gloves over his hands, and glanced at the mask and sunglasses. He didn't need them right now. So, the Soldier sat, and waited. After an hour, the sound of an explosion and the feeling of the vibration suddenly assaulted his senses, and his head whipped up, and the sound of guards yelling orders, both at him and other people, entered his ears, a general attack on his senses. Grabbing the mask and sunglasses, he slipped them over his face, taking whatever orders he was given out. He caught an "The Avengers are attacking!" and something like anger, and almost painful familiarity, flowed through him. The Soldier knew that he must kill them; especially Tony Stark. They were his mission.

 

 _Tony Stark_ was his mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup; so, i decided that i update on weekends! saturday and sunday. so you'll get a chapter, or if you're lucky, 2 chapters every week. i,, don't know how long this fic will be, but it might be long. hope you enjoy this weeks chapter!


	5. And it Takes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, i changed the chapter titles; so go ahead and look back at previous chapters!!

      Tony dove down within his Iron-Man armor, with new nanotechnology. Firing up his repulsors and shooting towards several Hydra agents, he communicated with the team. "So, has anyone found that soldier guy yet?" On the other end, Steve sighed, sounding winded and slightly irritated. "No, not yet. We aren't even exactly sure if this is the right base or not. Hopefully, we can get him soon." The sight of a red, white, and blue shield flying through several different Hydra agents greeted Tony, and soon enough, so did the sight of the Captain himself. Like old times, they fought together, sending countless Hydra agents flying. Tony whooped as he flew through the air, the nanotechnology forming and disappearing as he wished. He joked around with the team, making puns and recounting the time that Steve had told Tony 'language' while destroying a Hydra base. A voice crackled in his ear. "Uh, guys, i think i found the guy we're looking for."

      "Friday, get me visuals." Tony commanded, and the A.I. did as told. Seeing from Rhodey's view in the bottom right of his visor, was the far-away image of an intimidating looking man, looking nearly exactly like how Bucky had when he'd been the Winter Soldier, except the metal arm was on the right. "Finally! We can get this done and get this guy to Fury." The image from Rhodey's view was gone, and Tony was flying to where he saw said soldier in the middle of a fight with Steve. Diving down, Tony grabbed one of his arms, instantly dragging him down into the cold snow below. Holding him down to where the Soldier struggled angrily, Tony lifted a repulsor. "Stay down." But, it was a futile attempt at harmless capture, as the soldier kicked Tony away. The soldier grabbed Tony's arm and proceeded to slam him into the ground, raising a metal fist. But before the fist could make contact, Steve grabbed the (surprisingly strong) soldier, putting him into a headlock. Tony quickly got up, only to see the Soldier grab Steve by the head, apparentley grabbing him hard enough to knock him out, and threw him nearly across the entire base. Shock enveloped Tony; how strong  _was_ this guy? 

      His thoughts were cut off, however, by the Soldier lunging towards him, already grabbing him by the neck and tearing his helmet off. The cold air slapped him in the face, and Tony could barely process his helmet reforming around his head and putting his arms up in defense. Feeling the force of the blow sent him reeling; literally and figuratively. Tony swore he felt his arm break under the fist that hit it, and feeling his back hit the ground and his head hit a wall, he knew that he was  _not_ getting out of this unscathed. The figure, now slightly blurry due to his disorientation, was racing towards him, while simultaneously dodging what seemed to be arrows without even looking. The sight of the metal arm closing around an arrow and tossing one at Clint sent panic through Tony, trying to get up. Yelping when pain seared through his entire body, Tony stopped moving, even as the arrow got closer and closer to Clint. The image of a black figure flew through the sky, destroying the arrow and racing down towards the soldier. 

      Relief flooded through Tony.  _Thank God_. Rhodey's familiar voice finally settled in Tony's still-ringing ear. "Tony, Tony, are you okay?! Answer me, you prick!" Tony laughed, answering back. "Yeah, yeah, m'fine, Platypus. Just got knocked into a wall, is all." Steve's voice-thank god, he was okay-entered his hearing as well. "Tony, that doesn't sound fine at all. You're getting to the medbay as soon as we get back." Tony shook his head, knowing that Steve couldn't see him. Letting the pain gradually fade slightly, Tony got up again, hissing through gritted teeth. Cradling his side, Tony watched as Rhodey, Clint, and now-surprisingly-Bucky took on the soldier, dodging attacks sent by the other. But, even as they fought, the Soldier noticed Tony's hunched, pained figure, and shoved through the throng of Heroes to get to him. Shockingly, the Solder was fast, almost a blur as Bucky was knocked over. Barely seeing where he was aiming, Tony lifted a repulsor, and let out the shot. 

      A shout of pain and the image of a mask falling from a face greeted Tony, and satisfaction flowed through his still-pained body, watching as the black-clad man held his face in his hand. The other removed the hand, revealing a burn and a face that Tony hadn't seen within a decade. His heart stuttered. Shock was the only thing Tony could feel. Regret, anger, grief. He could hardly feel his helmet fall from around his face, revealing his expression, full of pain, physically and mentally. He couldn't feel the cold biting his cheeks. Only one word-one  _name_ -fell from his mouth.

"Peter?"

 

 

 

 

**_"Who the hell is Peter?"_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED FOR 2 WEEKS!!! aaaa, i've been really busy lately, so i haven't been able to do stuff, and i haven't been motivated. my birthday was around 2 weeks ago, and schoolwork has been piling up, so yeah. again, sorry!! hope you like this chapter!


	6. And

      Everything stilled. Tony recognized that face, through the long hair, through the cold eyes, through the stubble on the chin. He looked older, so much older. He no longer looked like an innocent kid.  _Peter_ no longer looked like an innocent kid. After all, through all that torture and brainwashing, who would look innocent? Who would  _be_ innocent? Peter... God,  _Peter_. It shattered Tony's already-fragile heart when Peter didn't even recognize his own name, nor his own mentor. Peter looked just as cold as the snowy terrain around them, shaped into something that was unrecognizeable from outside forces. Peter had the face of a killer, and Tony knew that those hands had blood on them, visible or not. 10 years had passed since Peter had supposedly died, and so, so much had changed. It made Tony's heart stop, and he almost felt like he couldn't breathe. Every single thought was laced with self-hate, and self-blame. Tony knew that if he had never taken that suit away- _God, it was so, so long ago now_ -that Peter would still be an innocent kid. An innocent superhero that helped cats out of trees and old ladies across streets. An innocent child that built Lego's with his best friend, and cared about his aunt, and was bullied by those around him and never backed down even as he was continuously beat over and over again.

      Not... Not this. Never this.

      Peter was never supposed to be a cold blooded killer, a brainwashed assassin meant to kill him, a hydra agent who was forced against his will to kill. He wasn't supposed to look so cold, so frustrated and confused, so  _angry_. He was never meant to be as cold as the ice around them. He was... he was suppposed to be an Avenger. Peter had always begged to be an Avenger, to be let on the team. And Peters aunt... oh god, his aunt. May had been heartbroken and completely devastated when she heard that Peter had died. She blamed him, rightfully so, until suddenly, she had run out of anger and no longer hated Tony. Of course, she couldn't. Just like Peter, she had a heart of gold, too. May had had every right to hate him for killing her nephew, her  _son_. And yet, she never did. Even when Tony had begged her to, all May had done was hug him and weep. They both attended the funeral, without a body to bury because... because Peter  _wasn't dead_. They hadn't known that Peter was being tortured, having his memories erased, and his arm replaced with a metal prosthetic. Peter had been forced to murder, to do the worst crimes imaginable. Maybe Peter was ordered to torture someone similarly. How many times had Peter begged for his own life until he gave up? How much did Peter scream for Tony, thinking that Tony would come to save him? All these years...

      All these years, and Tony didn't have a damn clue about what was happening to Peter. All Tony had done was drink, drink, and drink. He worked, worked, and worked. He didn't even try to connect the dots. Because they could have found Peters body in the ocean if Peter really had died. They could have looked at security footage. But no. Tony had done nothing but sit on his ass and be a selfish bastard and drown in his sorrow. And everything... Everything just collapsed.

      For a second, Tony didn't even realise that it was him who collapsed to his knees. He hadn't felt the cold biting into his face, or the hot tears slipping down his cheeks. All he could focus on was what he could have done, what he didn't do, and what was right in front of him. 

 

 _Peter, Peter, Peter_.

 

      The name repeated itself inside his head like a mantra of despair.

 

       _Who the hell is Peter?_

 

      The phrase was clear as daylight, as clear as the wormhole he'd once flown through, as clear as the day Peter had died. 

      

      Yes, Peter hadn't died. Not physically. But... the Peter he'd known, the loveable kid who told him about Churro's he'd gotten from old ladies, had died. The Peter that saved abandoned Puppies from alleyways was dead. The amazing superhero, Spider-man, had died alongside with him. He remembered small shrines to honor the small hero, from people who he'd saved. He'd been a small-time hero, yes, but New York still held him dearly. People had spoken how he had saved them from being murdered, or mugged, or raped. People spoke that, even though he never needed to help them, he chose to do so anyways. And he never, ever asked for money, or even thanks. He never took anything from people, not business cards, not simple gifts. Not because he was rude, but simply because Spider-man thought that the New Yorkers were the ones who were the heroes. Not him. They only ever spoke about how unbelieveably kind Spider-man was. 

 

      Oh, if only they'd known about Peter Parker.

 

      Tony... Tony kept spacing in and out, almost unaware of what was happening. The Soldier- _Peter_ \- got away, and he was suddenly in the quinjet. He distantly noted the feeling of someones hand gently rubbing his back, whispering small comforts. He recognized it as Steve, slowly, and quietly wondered how much time had gone by. Steve had always been fast ~~~~- _Just like Peter,_ his mind unhelpfully supplied-so he could have gotten to the quinjet faster than what was expected. Peter... Peter should have been right beside him.

 

* * *

 

 

      Some time had passed. It felt like an eternity since he came to, but at the same time, it felt like it was far too quickly. Tony was aware of everything almost too quickly, and it felt like a harsh slap to the face. He noticed the silvery black of the inside of the quinjet, the gentle blue coming from the lights. He felt the soft leather of the seat he was in, and the gentle-yet-firm hand on his back. He no longer felt his armor encasing him; Tony realized the nanobots and receded into the housing unit on his chest. The housing unit... was oddly comforting. It was always there, and helped to ground him. Usually, it would remind him of his arc-reactor, which didn't bring many pleasant memories... but the gentle blue reminded him he was safe. And with Steve.

      Steve was still gently rubbing circles onto his back, and had seemed to notice that Tony was now 'awake.' "Tony?" Steve gently questioned, as if still unsure that Tony was there, or would snap and break at any moment. The utter of his name helped ground Tony more, he realized. Glancing over to Steve, he simply hummed in confirmation, too exhausted to verbally respond. A small, gentle, relieved smile appeared on Steve's lips. "Hey, there. You alright? You gaze the team a scare earlier." Tony's brow rose a bit, quiet confusion on his face. Steve seemed to understand immediately. "Earlier, you were dissociating, according to Vision. You just... Kept muttering the name 'Peter.' Does... Did you know that man, back there?" 

      Tony winced, looking back down. Swallowing down tears, he nodded jerkily, confirming Steve's question. Steve hummed in response. "Well, when you're feeling better, back at the compound, you can tell us what happened, if that's alright with you." The captain indirectly questioned, and Tony nodded once again. He didn't want to talk. He... he couldn't. Steve nodded, and continued to rub circles into Tony's back. "Sleep, Tony. You'll feel better." Not having the energy to fight, Tony only leaned against Steve and closed his eyes, letting fretful rest and self-loathing dreams settle over him like a blanket.

 

* * *

 

 

      Tony had woken a while ago, and still seemed to be tired. Steve sighed at the sight of the exhausted genius, sympathy worming its way into his heart. He completely understood how Tony felt. When he found out that Bucky was still alive and brainwashed, Steve had felt horrible. He'd relived many of the times during the War, with and without Bucky. He'd blamed himself, thinking he could have prevented all that from happening. Steve knew that Tony felt the exact same way. Whoever that Soldier once was... he'd meant a lot to Tony. Steve assumed that maybe The Soldier's name was 'Peter,' as Tony had called The Soldier that from what Bucky had told him. Tony had looked devastated and completely wrecked, emotionally and physically. He'd broken a rib and bruised several other ribs. Steve felt bad for Tony, and he didn't exactly know what to do about it. Emotions had never been Steve's strong suit, after all.

      Steve sighed again, rubbing his sore jaw. The Soldier had a good punch, he'll admit. A hand plopped down on his shoulder, making Steve jump and turn, only to see Bucky right by him. "Hey, Steve. You alright?" Quiet concern was in both his words and face, eyes worried. Steve nodded. "Yeah, i'm fine, Buck. It's just... Tony... He's not. I'm just worried, is all." Bucky nodded, understanding in his expression. "Yeah, me too. He looks like that raccoon from space, dontcha think?" Steve snorted at the light hearted attempt at the joke. "Yep. What was his name, Racket?" A small burst of laughter rose from Bucky's lips, a grin forming. "Well, that's what he is, isn't he?" Steve shook his head, trying to hide his grin. A comfortable silence grew between them, and Steve continued to watch Tony.

      Tony seemed to be more awake, now, at least. The bags under his eyes would never go away, but at least he looked comfortable with the blanket over his shoulders and his coffee in hand. The genius rubbed his hand over his eyes a few times, still looking like he would pass out at any minute, while somehow also looking like he could work on another Iron Man suit and make another one within a day. It was a look only Tony could achieve. 

      Steve stood up from leaning against the counter, and quietly walked over to Tony. Tony noticed his presence almost immediately, and look up towards him, looking slightly startled for a second before calming. Steve awkwardly cleared his throat. "So, Tony... do you think you could tell us about what happened back at that base?" Tony's face fell.

 

      "Oh... yeah, i guess i could."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OAJNDFJ I'M SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN SUCH A LONG TIME!! i've been VERY busy with school, and i haven't been motivated AT ALL! gah, i hope y'all like this chapter!


	7. It

      Everything was... odd, ever since that weird man had called him 'Peter.' He never... went by Peter. Not... not that he could remember. It felt so damn familiar, though. He felt like he should know it, like it was something so  _obvious_. He... He should know it. And that man... that man was familiar, too. He knew it. He knew that man, but from where? He... he couldn't think of where he could possibly know him. And it was so fucking frustrating. And... god, it hurt so fucking much, too. He wanted to cry, and yet his anger kept him from doing so. Besides, if he showed any hint of emotion... who knew what would be done to him. After all, he didn't know. He just... knew that something bad would happen if he showed signs of  _remembering_. Remembering what? 

      The sound of a machine, and electrical sound brought him back. He internally panicked, but realized it wasn't the electric shock chair he was sitting in. ...How did he know that? Shaking the thought from his head, he looked up at the sound of the door opening. The door creaked and squealed loudly, grating against his sensitive ears. The door was old. And by the scent in the room, this entire place was old. Possibly an old Hydra base. The man stepped in front of him, and he knew this man. He didn't... know the others name, though. "Mission Report." The man ordered. But... it didn't really process in his mind. The expression on the mans face showed impatience and annoyance. "Mission Report,  _now_." The Soldier opened his mouth to talk, but... found himself unable to speak. No words exited his mouth. The mans face showed an expression of anger, before a hand was raised and was slapped across his face. The slight sense of danger warned him of it, but he'd made no movement to dodge. It stung for just a moment, before the feeling going away. The voice commanded him again. "Soldier. I said, Mission. Report. Now." Finally, The Soldier found himself able to speak. But it took a second to string together words. "I... That man. The man in the armor, the red armor. Who... was he?" The Soldier glanced up towards the authoritative man. The man's expression was cold, and The Soldier was now unable to read the mans possible thoughts.

      "We told you. Tony Stark, Iron Man. He's an Avenger. Your mission. You were supposed to kill him, why didn't you?" The Soldier looked down, again taking a second to form words. "He... Tony Stark. I... I think... I knew him. I  _know_ him." An image. A... flashback? He couldn't hear what was being said. A man in a... bird suit. The metal hitting against his chest, falling from a height so tall that he couldn't see the plane. Being dragged through wet sand, arm burning. An image of a metal arm, doctors,  _Weapon of Hydra_. 

 

       _Weapon of Hydra._

      

      Misplaced anger was felt stronger over fear, panic striking him harder than ever felt before. His arm reacted to his terror from misfiring nerves saying  _get out, get out, get out!_ He lashed out, violently punching a man working on his arm and sending him skidding across the cold and dark room. yelling was heard, guns pointed at him and he was being held down. Something snapped over his arms, and over the yelling and cursing, he heard  _"Erase his memories! Erase all of it, start over! I will_ not  _have this happen again! We cannot lose another Soldier!"_   Panic shot through him again the moment he felt something close around his head.

 

      And all he felt was pain, pain, and pain. That's all he knew.

 

That's all he'd ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i felt like i should write more so HERE

**Author's Note:**

> Welp y'all know how this is gonna go down! so, that's the first chapter of The Newest Soldier! not the best title, i know, but it's something. anyways, i really hope you enjoy this fic! i'll probably be actually writing this one, since this idea has been in my head for AGES. i hope you love this idea as much as i do!! love y'all!


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